


All Too Well

by stanheartsbill



Series: loving him was red [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, thats the tea sis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 12:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20063929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanheartsbill/pseuds/stanheartsbill
Summary: I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here, 'cause I remember it all too well.-Stan and Bill broke up nine months ago because of long distance. Stan is getting over it.





	All Too Well

**Author's Note:**

> is this thing on. lol hi im back. bet yall thot u had seen the last of me. okay dedicated to my gf who said 'u still have talent u just need to use it' and inspired/motivted me to write this. cant guarantee that im back like definitely but this was a lot of fun to write and i really wanna write more parts of this lol i was getting ideas for more fics AS i was writing this. so hopefully i will do it. that all being said i have literally not written in a year so pls be gentle (i actually proofread and edited this time guys! people DO change!)

Derry summers were as hot as hell, Stan remembered, but he still found himself rolling down his windows as he drove past the  _ Welcome _ sign.  _ Home _ , he thought.  _ Welcome home, Stanley Uris. _ He tried to take it with a grain of salt.

The air blowing in through his windows wasn’t cool by any means, but Atlanta managed to be just as hot even in the winter, so maybe he just didn’t mind it so much now. 

It was hard to keep his eyes from wandering. Of course, it had only been 9 months, but being so far, it almost felt like an eternity. He found himself checking to see what had changed, what had stayed the same. Not a lot. He smiled softly to himself.  _ Yep, _ he laughed to himself, alone in his car, only his luggage with him.  _ That’s Derry for you _ . 

It was hard to ignore the burning question in the back of his mind - would Bill be home? He almost felt like his childhood self, ready to go knocking on Bill’s door, asking Sharon or Zack Denbrough, “Can Bill come hang out today?” 

He’d almost asked Beverly when he was on the phone with her while staying at that motel in Pennsylvania along the drive up. Stan didn’t really like to drive at night, there were too many things to think about, and nighttime is when they always managed to catch up. 

He didn’t actually ask her, though. 

Nine months later and his friends were all still being as gentle as ever about the whole subject as if his break down three months ago didn’t make them force him to start going to therapy. He didn’t resent them for it, though, not even a little. He was glad to be mostly-sane again. He could stomach thoughts of Bill without crying. He could even say Bill’s name without memories washing back over him. He barely had dreams about Bill anymore, or at all, but hey, he wasn’t arguing. 

“I’ve researched a therapist for you with really great reviews,” Eddie had told Stan over FaceTime back in March, “And before you say anything, yes, I checked, your parents’ insurance covers it.” 

“Thanks,” Stan sighed, swallowing. 

“We love you, Stan,” Richie cut in, walking behind Eddie, “We want you to be happy.”

_ Easy for you to say when your boyfriend just tags along to your dreams, Richie, _ Stan thought, but it was too bitter, he couldn’t say that to his friends. They wanted the best for him. His parents did.  _ He _ did. 

But at the same time, he didn’t. He wanted to go to work and do his schoolwork and worry about his finances and cry about Bill and sleep for the rest of his life, because to Stan, that was coping, and it’s what he’d gotten accustomed to doing by now. He didn’t want to let time heal him, he wanted to stay in his paralyzed state of delusional hope forever. Sometimes, it felt better than actually getting better. It certainly was easier.

“Thank you guys,” He gave them a smile, though it was sad and he could feel that his attempt was pathetic. 

A high-pitched bark was heard in the background of Eddie’s phone. Stan raised his eyebrows. 

“We got a dog,” Eddie explained, looking somewhere off-screen as Richie quickly disappeared. Stan could just barely make out his screeching ‘ _ NICOOOOLE! _ ’ and loud, fast footsteps. “Um, her and Nicole Kidman don’t really get along-,”  _ Crash. _ Eddie was barely on screen, running. There was more barking, and more of Richie yelling. “I’ll call you back! I made you an appointment, I’ll text you the information! I just --” 

Stan understood, and he hung up. Nicole Kidman is Richie’s lizard, one of the first things he and Eddie bought once they moved to California for school. 

He said the words aloud to himself, swishing them around in his mouth, making them a reality. “ _ Therapist _ . I’m going to see a therapist. I’m going to get therapy.”

It helped, more than he could’ve anticipated. 

Stan was brought back as he drove up into the driveway of his childhood home. He swallowed hard. Getting better in Georgia was easy, there weren’t little pieces of Bill tucked into every crevice of it there. He’d gotten his apartment only after everything, he couldn’t afford theirs by himself and he didn’t want it, anyway. 

But now he’d really jumped into the deep end. 

He took a few deep breaths like he and Nadine (His therapist) had practiced, and reminded himself that he would only be here two weeks, just long enough to see his parents and Mike and Beverly and Ben who were coming up from New York. Eddie and Richie had said they would try to make it, but Bev was the initiator of all of this, so Stan didn’t really know who would all actually be here. He only knew Mike for sure because they’d Facetimed and talked about going back to see the sheep on his parents’ farm. He reminded himself of that, breathed, and tried to feel the sheep wool against his hand until the anxiety went away. 

He wondered if Bev invited Bill as he pulled his suitcase from the back of his Sedan. 

On his way into the house, he caught glimpse of a white-winged dove in the tree by the house. He waved at it just as it coo’d. 

“Stanley!” His mother greeted him excitedly as he opened the door.

“Hey, Mom,” He grinned at her, opening his arms to receive her hug, his father walking in from the living room and joining their hug, “Hey, Dad.” 

“Hello, Stanley,” His father’s comfortingly low voice happily welcomed him. 

“Oh, we were so worried about you-,” His mother started, and Stan felt himself start to blush. 

“I’m fine, Mom,” He coughed. 

“- When I got that call from Beverly, oh she’s such a sweet girl, and Eddie and Richie, oh -” 

“Mom, -” 

“Oh, I was so worried about you, baby, are you doing better? Oh, I wished so badly that I could’ve been there to comfort you, Sharon was so worried, too, and B-,” 

“ _ Andrea _ ,” His father butt-in loudly. “Darling, why don’t we let Stanley get settled in, huh?” He gave everyone his soft, cool smile, and Stan was reminded of why he was a Rabbi in the first place. The smile he offered Stan was especially knowing, and Stan nodded thankfully back to him before going upstairs. 

His room was the same as he’d left it. Fairly empty from when he’d moved, but his double bed was still there, with his sheets and comforter and pillows on it. He knew his mother had probably washed it in preparation for his stay, but he still wondered if he could still smell Bill on it, for all the times he’d stayed over. 

He didn’t try, though. 

He just laid his suitcase on it and filed the clothes he’d brought into his old, empty dresser and clicked on the lamp on his old bedside table. 

“Dinner is ready, Stanley!” His mother called from downstairs. Stan smiled softly to himself. He had to say, this was surprisingly easy. He felt okay. 

The first week was smooth. The first night home, he just stayed in with his parents, drank some wine and talked about work and school and Atlanta. Awkward jokes about strip clubs were exchanged, but Stan assured them with a laugh that he was still gay and didn’t have time or desire to go to clubs anyway. He assumed his dad must have said something to his mother; she barely brought up Bill or the situation at all again. He was quietly grateful. 

Mike did come home and they did go hang out at the farm for a while. He brought his girlfriend home with him, Shannon. Stan liked her a lot, she was very friendly and reminded him of Beverly in every way but appearance, but she was still gorgeous. They pet the sheep together, and then Beverly and Ben joined them later for a campfire, just like in high school. Stan didn’t think he’d laughed so hard in months, he’d really missed his friends. No FaceTime calls could amount to himself, Shannon, Ben, and Beverly tickle-attacking Mike when he came back from the house with a second bag of marshmallows. Stan almost made himself sick eating them, he’s sure they all probably did, but he was having too much fun to care. 

He went to the temple and listened dutifully to his father, participating as he was raised to do. He noted that his mother held his hand more than usual, and hugged him tighter, insisting it was just because she missed him so much. 

Richie and Eddie arrived the next week. Stan was finally filled in about this on Thursday when his parents had the Toziers over for dinner. They’d had to leave their new dog (Whose name, Stan was informed, is Avril Lavigne) at a kennel, but Eddie begrudgingly let Richie bring Nicole Kidman. So, of course, everybody stayed over Richie’s, got drunk, and passed around the lizard, taking turns cooing at their ‘first niece.’ 

But it wasn’t quite the same. 

There was something missing. 

“Someone,” Beverly agreed. 

They sat on Stan’s bed together, the room lit only by the lamp on his bedside table. 

“A big someone,” Stan said, running his tongue along his front teeth. He leaned back and watched Bev slouch, picking at her chipping nail polish. She licked her lips, and he could tell she was trying to think of what to say. 

She looked at him, finally. “And what do you think about all of that?” 

Stan felt his teeth grind together a little. He did that in his sleep for a while, in those dark 6 months. His dentist had said it was probably due to a mix of anxiety and stress. He wasn’t wrong. 

“I think… Things are okay. I’d like to be myself again, but it’s like, I’m not sure who that is without him,” He tried to explain as best as he could, “Like, I’m okay, but I’m not great. I’m just not freaking out.” He half-laughed. 

“Stan…” She said, moving her hand to his knee, rubbing her thumb against it. Stan could hear the thickness in his own voice. 

“It’s like, I know this is good for me, and I know it’s good that he’s not here…” He sniffled, trying to blink tears out of his eyes. He swallowed, not sure if he could finish his sentence without crying.  _ Breathe, breathe.  _ “I just miss him. Everything feels wrong. It’s like an itch I can’t scratch... Like, my heart itches.” He laughed at himself, and Beverly laughed, too, the two of them left looking at each other. Stan still felt like he was going to cry, but not out of anxiety from thinking, just because he wanted to cry.

“There’s more you want to say.” Beverly licked her lips. Her green eyes were wide and they stared right through him. Stan sat up, crossing his legs, and rubbed his hands on his face. 

“It’s like, he should be here, but I can’t have him here. I feel like that’s all my life has been since he went away,” Stan hiccupped, and finally blinked down a couple of tears. “It’s all really fresh in my mind, and while I’m having a good time with you guys, I’m remembering  _ him _ being here. It’s like he’s here anyway,” He cried, and Beverly opened her mouth, but Stan continued. “And I know you’re probably going to tell me that you wanted to invite him and he wanted to come, because I know both of you,” He sobbed, “But I don’t want to know if he wants to see me. I can’t know those things. I can’t keep deluding myself. I barely forget about it all long enough to even  _ remember _ to forget!” He took a long, deep breath. “I don’t know if that makes any sense,” He sniffled. 

“It does,” She softly reassured him. 

“Like, I know I deserve to be happy, and I kind of am, but I’m kind of not, because I’m trying to emulate the happiness that I had with him, which was like, my entire life, basically, and… It’s just a lot, you know? It’s really hard,” His voice broke. “I’m trying really hard.” 

Beverly nodded. “I understand. I see you trying, and I’m really glad you are… I’m sorry,” She said quietly, “I know asking you to come to stay was a lot.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Stan sniffled, trying to better control his breathing, a couple of tears still falling. “You gave me every opportunity to say no. In a weird way, it’s been kind of nice,” He laughed, “My therapist is trying to make me see the beauty in things that remind me of him. I try to remember how I felt in those moments and know that it’s okay to live in them sometimes, as long as I pull back and say that I’m just glad it happened. They’re not the only times I’ve been happy in my life. They won’t be. They don’t define me.” He half-smiled, re-convincing himself, giving himself a little pity-motivation speech, though his breathing was still messed up from crying, and he was still dabbing at his eyes with the corner of his shirt. 

“I’m really glad you can see things that way. I know this is a lot for you, and it’s taking a lot of energy. I’m really proud of you, Stan, we all are.” She smoothed his hair away from his eyes, and her cool hand felt nice on his skin. 

“Thank you,” He said, honestly feeling pretty pathetic, beginning to get a headache, just as her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She took it out and Stan watched her eyes scan the text message. 

“Alright, it’s one in the morning, and Ben would like me to come back to his house before his mom goes to bed,” She chuckled. “Get some sleep? We’re going to the quarry tomorrow, and Richie’s brought weed.” Stan laughed at that. 

“Yeah, my head kinda hurts so I’m gonna take some Advil and hit-the-hay.” He patted his pillow awkwardly as she stood from his bed. She leaned over to kiss his forehead. 

“Goodnight, Stan, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said, walking to his door. 

“See ya tomorrow,” Stan waved, a tiny smile tucked into his reddened cheeks. 

Settled back into bed with his glass of water, having brushed his teeth and changed into sleepwear, Stan opened the drawer of his bedside table, hoping he’d left that bottle of Advil in it. 

He swallowed as his eyes scanned the only contents of the drawer.

It was a shirt, a flannel, but Stan knew it wasn’t his. He teared up all over again, reaching gently into the drawer, picking up the cloth delicately, like he was afraid it’d crumble, like it was a delusion. 

He licked his lips, holding the fabric in his hands, feeling it between his palm and thumbs. Yes, he knew this flannel. This was his favorite of Bill’s, because it was soft and thick, so it was warm and held Bill’s smell better than any of his others. He swallowed, lifting it tentatively closer to his face, feeling a tear stroke his cheek. 

Cigarettes and orange-citrus, just like Stan remembered. 

“Hi, Bill,” He whispered to it. “I’m not sure who put you in there because I never would have done that. Maybe it was you, last summer maybe when you were here. That feels like so long ago. You bastard.” He laughed sadly, tears flowing more regularly. “I’m sorry I blocked your number.” He repented to the inanimate-shirt. “I couldn’t stand reading your texts in your voice, and every time you called I almost picked up, but I knew I couldn’t handle it. I think you kind of did, too. You always have pushed me out of my comfort zone. But I really needed to be in it after you. Just living without you was out of my comfort zone at first.” He cried. “Yes, I remember your voice very well. How could I not? It was only my favorite multifaceted sound in the world.” He smiled through his tears again. “You stupid bastard, you’re so memorable,” He cried, voice still hushed. “I always wonder if I am, too, if you remember everything. Because I do. I remember it all too well.” 


End file.
